


Surprised

by sensitivebore



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:05:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sensitivebore/pseuds/sensitivebore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carson and Hughes, surprised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprised

It's pitch black, so very, very dark, and everyone is carrying candles and laughing and bumping into one another and Elsie thinks it's funny, how electricity became such a mainstay in their lives so quickly. So many of them, herself included, had been raised without it and now when it goes out for a time they're lost and fumbling and silly.

She doesn't bother with a candle — why should she, hasn't she walked these halls and opened these doors enough now to know them by heart, by touch, by feel — but merely walks to his office, opens the door, lets herself in. He's there, shadowy in the dark room, and she sees he hasn't bothered with candlelight, either. He's polishing silver, of course, something he could do in his sleep, there's no need for light when your fingers know every nook and cranny of a candelabra, of a loving cup.

"And this is why gaslight is and will always be superior to this electrical nonsense."

She smiles at his rumbling, his meaningless complaint, and feels her way to the chair — her chair, the one that she sits in night after night — and curls into it. They won't be doing much of anything until the lights are back on, that's a certainty, so she might as well come and keep him company, let him keep hers.

"It's a fine time for a game of Sardines, really."

Elsie suppresses a smile at his contemptuous snort. He's not a games type, not unless it's hard and competitive and outdoors, certainly he isn't one for parlor games and entertainments.

"I never knew how to play that game, exactly."

She's surprised. Figured that after serving a thousand and one parties he would have seen the young ladies, at least, playing at it with their friends. But perhaps he doesn't pay much attention to giggling girls all crammed up under a table or in a coat closet, perhaps he thinks it's childish business beneath him.

"Well, when the lights are out, one person hides. When the others find him, instead of calling out, they smash in with him in his hiding space. Same goes for the next and the next until only one person is left looking or until there's no more room left for hiders." She grins. No wonder he didn't how it was played; he'd no more cram tightly into a cupboard or a closet with other people for fun than he would lay a table incorrectly.

"Never you mind, Mr. Carson. It's not something you'd be likely to do."

He sits up and she can hear the miffed expression more than see it, it's so very, very dark in here, particularly now that she has fully closed the door.

"I beg your pardon, I'll have you know I'm as much for games as anyone else. I'm quite competitive, actually."

Elsie rolls her eyes. "It's not meant to be competitive, just a bit of fun."

He taps his fingers once, twice, on his desk.

"Hide, then."

She blinks, blinks again. "I'm sorry?"

"Hide. Hide and I'll count and then find you."

Elsie gapes, looks around. "I — here? It wouldn't be very difficult to find me, Mr. Carson. You do have the bigger pantry but it's still not Versailles."

His voice is smug. "Calling off, are you? I'd think you have enough imagination to give me a challenge."

She huffs, stands up. "I will, then. You stand over by the door with your eyes closed and count." This is silly, she thinks, she can hardly believe they're doing this but apparently they are; it's not particularly in-character for either of them, but everyone else is giggling around candlelit board games or books or telling stories and why shouldn't they have a moment of fun?

He's moved purposefully to the door and is facing it. "Just one question — what do I do when I find you? There's no point in hiding with you since it's only us."

Elsie is taking her shoes off so she can creep around unheard, shrugs at his question. "Oh, I don't know. Surprise me. Now count to twenty. Slowly!"

Carson begins counting and she looks around methodically, begins ruling out potential places. Under his desk is too obvious, in the coat closet is the first place he'll look, she can't fit in the low breakfront cupboards.

The drapes. They're long and billowing and the window is facing the back lawn where no one goes this time of night so there's no chance of anyone giving her away. She creeps around and he's counting now fourteen — fifteen — sixteen — and Elsie steps silently up onto the window seat and secrets herself in the drape, stands tightly in the corner of the window and makes sure she's well-hidden. Holds her breath even, holds back some giggles. It's terribly silly, all of this, but she feels lighthearted, young, giddy.

"Nineteen — twenty."

She remains completely still as she hears him searching, feeling around with his hands, and surely enough the first place is the coat closet, the second is the nook under his desk. Elsie grins. It's a shame it'll be over so quickly — after all, he'll find her in no time, there's just not that many places for a grown woman to lurk in this pantry — because as he pointed out, there was nothing to do when her found her except end the game.

 _Surprise me_ , she had said.

A few moments later, when he's stepped up onto the window seat himself, pulled the huge velvet drapery back and let it fall around the two of them, when he's kissing her hard up against the window frame and her hands are running over his chest, when his tongue is slipping gently between her lips and she's opening for him, gasping, when those big palms are clutching her hips and he's kissing her again and again, kissing her with his beautiful mouth, fondling the curves of her bottom, when she's gripping his shoulders, his neck, when she's clinging breathless and weak from the pleasure, from the sheer solid eroticism of his body crushing her so warmly, she thinks this was a fine idea. That they need a little fun sometimes.

_Surprise me._


End file.
